Ozona

Still on Interstate Hwy 10, and still in the desert. I headed southeast (for 5 1/2 hours) toward San Antonio until I came to the town of Ozona. Did I mention I was still in the desert? It makes sense that every destination in the desert is a town, not a thriving city, and that has held true. In fact, the only way I knew I was in a different state was because of the sign I passed that said “Welcome to Texas”. The only exciting thing that happened to me on that drive was that EVERYONE had to stop at border control. Once again this little old lady fooled them all and the guard (?) said, in a Texas accent, “You have a good day, ma’am.” Then I sped off, accelerating to 80 MPH (the actual speed limit.)

The town of “Ozona” was named for the high quantity of its open air, or “ozone”. That’s about all I got on that. When I got into Ozona, Maps directed me down this long frontage road. I passed several good-looking hotels. Then, it had me turn into a dirt driveway where, before my eyes, stood a one story motel that looked like it had been built just after World War II. Inside, the paint layers were so thick it looked like paint was what held the walls up. It was clean otherwise but it was no Wyndom-owned hotel as advertised. I was told that I had to walk my dog under the one big tree that sat 200 feet away from my room. I believe, in that moment, my thought was, “The Bates Motel looked nicer than this one does. That night I took a Benadryl to help me sleep. It worked and I awoke refreshed and ready to move on. Nothing holding me here in this town. Note: Because I’m not thrilled by a place should have no reflection on the people there. Everyone has been pleasant and polite.

As Hwy 10 moved Southeast, I was headed for San Antonio. Fairly quickly, I was driving through green hills (it is Spring) dotted with oak trees. I thought I had made a wrong turn and was back in Sonoma County. Anyway, no more desert. I made a stop in Kerrville before hitting San Antonio. It was a cute little town. Walking into the gas station store, a man in cowboy boots, jeans and a cowboy hat opened the door for me. I noticed several other “cowboys” and thought to myself, “Now I am in Texas.” Then he stepped back and said, “Please Ma’am, you were first.” When I turned 40, the first time the bag boy at the supermarket called me Ma’am, I did not like that. But when a Texas cowboy does it, well, I quite like that.

Arleen, the one I was headed to visit, had been in San Antonio the week before. She had gotten lost in the maze of interconnecting highways and she never gets lost. So I chose a route that skirted the big city. Apparently, Maps thought it was a better idea to go straight through and re-routed me without my permission. Aargh! Go right to stay on 10. Go left to stay on 10. Go right… Well, you get the idea. Now add to that thought the fact that we are all going 75 MPH (city highway speed). But, suddenly, the San Antonio highway system monster simply spit me out and I realized I was alive and safe and driving back at 80 MPH. The green continued and never went away, so that was nice.

Although I quite surprisingly like the desert and the people I met, I was glad to be back in the green.

Next stop, Corpus Christi, Texas. Until then, #ontheroadagain

Another Note: Since I have been destination-bound, I have not been taking many pictures. You botanist nerds would have loved to see the different types of cactus plants in each state, so I apologize to you. You are welcome to Google it. Hah!